This Is Our Time
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: A collection of gift-fics (mostly from Hogwarts' Gift-Tag). Current: After a sudden storm hits, Hannah rushes into a nearby cafe, where she meets someone who immediately catches her interest. NevilleHannah coffeeshop!au For Amanda / Death Eaters come for Rosmerta, but Kingsley arrives in the nick of time. KingsleyRosmerta. For Audrey
1. Learning to Love

**A/N: Hey y'all!**

 **Word Count: 2628**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **For the lovely Amber, via Gift-Tag (DeanPiers singleparent!AU)**

 **Enjoy!**

As Piers Polkiss stared down at the sleeping figure in the crib, he thought he'd never been more disgusted with himself.

He didn't know what had possessed him to take in his cousin's daughter, but he couldn't turn back now. He ran his hands through his dark hair and sighed, trying not to think of things like _clothes_ and _food_ , and everything else that would drain his suffering wallet.

He stumbled out of the bedroom, suddenly exhausted, and collapsed at the kitchen table. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. The accident had been so sudden. A gas leak, they'd said, but that didn't explain why baby Livia had survived. When Piers heard what had happened, he was overcome with an unexplainable need to know where the little girl would go. He agreed to take Livy in, despite the extra hours he'd have to work and the amount of sleep he'd lose.

Why? He wasn't sure. Maybe because he remembered when a man hadn't loved his son well enough, when a woman hadn't paid enough attention, and a cousin uprooted his whole life just to take care of a kid he barely knew… Maybe because he couldn't stand the thought of anyone hurting Livy ever again. Or maybe he'd just lost his mind.

He laughed cynically to himself. Nineteen, he thought, was too young to go mad.

A shrill scream tore through the dreadful silence hanging over the run-down apartment, and Piers got shakily to his feet. Everything seemed hopeless since Dudley left Privet Drive at the beginning of the summer without so much as a goodbye, and though Piers was well over that little crush, he couldn't deny that he'd put up new walls. Maybe he should give this baby a shot.

As he hurried to soothe her, Piers tried to shake the memories of a better family from his mind.

* * *

The sun had set an hour ago, and Piers was only _now_ getting his coffee. This wouldn't have been a big deal three years ago, before Livy had come into his life, but now that he had a toddler hanging off of him… well, he didn't like having to wait longer than necessary.

"Piers?"

The twenty-two year old looked down at his little cousin, smiling gently when he caught a glimpse of her messy black curls. "Yes, Livy?"

"Are we going home soon?"

Piers sighed, knowing he should have seen the complaint coming. "Yes, I just need to grab my coffee."

Livia's eyes lit up. "Can I have some?"

"No."

She pouted and dragged her feet all the way up to the counter when his name was called, but Piers refused to budge. He hadn't been a parent long, but he was fairly sure a three-year-old wasn't supposed to be drinking coffee.

Livia didn't see it that way, though. She glared up at him with big, blue eyes and balled her little hands into fists. Piers' internal alarm was going off; he knew that look. Things were about to get ugly.

Before she could cause a scene, he scooped the girl up in one arm and high-tailed it out of the cafe, walking swiftly towards his car. He'd nearly made it when a shoulder slammed into his own, knocking him off balance.

Piers barely refrained from letting loose a string of curses as his coffee fell to the ground, but he fixed a glare on the man who was responsible.

Black eyes widened in surprise at Piers' hostility, and dark hands hurriedly scooped the cup off the ground.

"Oh, er…" The man faltered when he realized that _yes,_ it was empty, and _yes_ , Piers was still glaring at him like he was the devil. Handsome though the stranger was, he'd been _dying_ for that caffeine. "Sorry about that, mate. I'll pay for the next one?"

Piers huffed, but his annoyance was quickly fading into exhaustion. "Too late for that, I have to get to work. Throw it away for me, will you?"

He turned around without waiting for an answer, trying not to slip on the icy road. The last thing he needed was to fall on top of Livy. Luckily, the little girl had gotten over her anger with him and was allowing him to strap her into her car seat without complaint. Piers thanked the heavens for small miracles.

"I'm sorry it fell," she said sincerely, surprising him.

He smiled tiredly at her. "That's all right. Maybe next time, yeah?"

He closed the door and then went around to the front of the car, sliding into the front seat. He fished around for his keys, hands slightly numb from the cold. He'd need to rush to get Livy to the sitter's on time, and then he'd have to speed along to work—

The car wasn't starting.

Piers tried again, thrusting the key inside and jerking it, listening to the engine awaken half-heartedly and then sputter out.

"Ah, no," he muttered desperately. "Not tonight. Bloody hell, not tonight."

He hit his palm against the dashboard in frustration, his forehead dropping against the steering wheel. Livia was trying to get his attention, but he couldn't face her right then. This was the third time his car had broken down in as many weeks, and he couldn't scrape enough money together for a serious repair.

It was times like these when he wondered why he'd taken Livia in. Surely living like this could only hurt her. Maybe he should have let a family come to adopt her, someone whose car would always run smoothly, who could always spare a minute to play with her. What had made him think that he was the best guardian for her? She deserved more than him.

He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, a habit he'd never quite been able to shake. Buying the coffee was such a stupid idea. His hands began stinging, but he didn't let up the pressure. He'd have to cancel the sitter now, ask his boss if he could have the night off—

A knock on the window interrupted his thoughts. He looked up miserably and felt his face heat up when he realized it was the man from before. He opened the door a crack, looking up at the taller man. "Yeah?"

He stuck out a hand, and Piers could have cursed his heart for fluttering right then. "Dean Thomas. I thought you might like some help with your car? For, you know. The coffee."

Piers frowned. "I don't think that's a fair trade. A coffee is a lot cheaper than the repair this hunk of junk will need." He hit the dashboard for emphasis.

Dean waved his words aside. "I bet it isn't as bad as you think. Can I take a look?"

As much as he wanted to get out of the parking lot, Piers had learned from a young age that people were rarely as kind as they appeared. His eyes narrowed.

"I don't think—"

"You've got a little one," Dean pressed. "Bet she wants to get home."

Piers crossed his arms. "Why the hell are you trying to be so helpful?"

Dean laughed, to Piers' shock. "Merlin, you really don't like to accept a hand, do you? When people need help, it's only right to step in."

"Did you say _Merlin?_ " Piers asked, a smile threatening to break free.

Dean looked momentarily alarmed before he smiled sheepishly. "Guess I did. Sorry about that. It's, er… a long story."

He snorted, amused by the answer. It struck him suddenly that it had been a long time since he'd laughed so carefreely, but as soon as the thought came he mentally smothered it. This wasn't the time to be thinking like that.

Piers looked at Dean for a long moment, debating the best course of action. On one hand, the man could sabotage his car and run off—Piers _had_ been a bit rude, after all. On the other hand, Dean could be sincere about his intentions—and Piers wasn't idiotic enough to chase away an attractive man, no matter how unavailable he was. Finally he sighed, hoping that he wasn't making a mistake.

"Go on, then. Work your magic."

There it was again—that odd, startled look on Dean's face. Just as quickly as it had appeared, however, it was gone.

"Ha, yeah. My magic. I'll just get to that, then."

Piers raised an eyebrow. "That's what I said."

Dean laughed a bit embarrassedly, and Piers felt a bit bad. He didn't say anything when Dean set to work on the engine, but he was listening carefully. A quickly whispered word, a soft tap—

"Start it now—see if that worked!"

Piers settled back into his seat, then revved the engine. It sprang to life, and he sat staring at where the key sat in the ignition.

He twisted around to face Dean, who was coming back around to the front of the car.

"It hasn't started that easily in weeks!" he exclaimed. "What the hell did you do?"

Those dark eyes twinkled mischievously. "Just a bit of magic."

Piers rolled his eyes. "Ha. Funny. But really—" He shot Dean a weak grin. "Thank you."

The other man beamed, tipping an imaginary hat Piers' way. "My pleasure. Hope you and your daughter have a good night."

"My daughter?" Piers glanced back at Livia, who had fallen asleep. "Oh, no, I'm just her guardian," he said bluntly. "She's my cousin."

"Oh." It was Dean's turn to look surprised. "Blimey, how long have you had her? I can't imagine having that much responsibility right now."

Piers shrugged uncomfortably. "About three years, I guess." He shook his head and reached for his seat belt. "I'd better get going. Thanks again."

He reached out to close the door, but Dean stopped him. "Wait—can I, erm. What's your name?"

Piers blinked owlishly, feeling incredibly stupid. "Oh. Sorry. Piers Polkiss. Nice to meet you, Thomas."

Dean offered him a smile, and Piers wanted to strangle his leaping heart. "Dean is fine.

"Right," Piers said slowly. "I've got to go now. See you around."

He began to back out of the parking space, and Dean leapt out of the way. Piers waved apologetically, but he didn't hesitate as he drove away from the cafe. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Livy and tried to slow his breathing. He didn't have time for this. He had work to get to, a kid to raise… romance, however fleeting, did not fit into the equation.

But no matter how many times he insisted that to himself, Dean's face refused to leave his mind.

* * *

It was a week before the universe broke its own laws and let Piers run into Dean again.

Livy was tugging on Pier's hand when it happened.

"I wanna go to the park!" she told him impatiently. "Hurry!"

Piers rolled his eyes fondly. He sometimes wondered what he had been like at Livia's age—he definitely hadn't been confident enough to drag his father out of the house—but he rather thought that as long as Livy was comfortable to be upset around him, he was doing something right.

She was a spritely little thing, and Piers could pretend for just a moment that they were a normal family. That he was a guardian who didn't have to work ungodly hours every week, who could buy her more than three gifts on her birthday and Christmas, who never had to skip meals so they could have electricity the next month…

The pretending was nice, but it never lasted long.

Livy raced ahead of him, heading towards the swingset. Piers laughed and jogged after her, amused by her antics. He had nearly reached her when someone behind him shouted out his name.

"Piers Polkiss? Is that you?"

Piers whipped around, his eyes finally landing on the man who had spoken. Dean.

The taller man ran over, a wide grin on his face. "Fancy seeing you here! Remember me?"

Piers cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that he'd been unable to _stop_ thinking about Dean since they had met. "Yeah. Magic car guy. I remember."

Dean laughed out loud. "That's right. How's… er, how are you?"

Piers wondered why he cared. No one ever really did, but he couldn't imagine what Dean expected to get from these interactions. He tried to ignore the voice in his head telling him that Dean was being sincere, but he _wanted_ to believe it. He was so tired of being invisible.

"I've been all right," he said, shrugging. "You?"

"Tired," Dean said candidly, which prompted Piers to tilt his head. "It's been a rough few years, if I'm being honest. Ever since…"

Dean got a faraway look in his eye, and Piers recalled all the freak accidents that had occurred all over the country three years back. Those had been dark times.

"Did you know anyone who… was affected by all that?" Piers asked cautiously.

Dean laughed humorlessly, the sound sending a chill down Piers' spine. "Yeah. I was right in the thick of things."

Piers nodded, his heart heavy. "That's what happened to Livy's mum and dad," he admitted quietly. "A gas leak, they said… It never made much sense to me, since Livy seemed fine, but it had to be something, hadn't it?"

"Right—yes, it had to be something." Dean looked a little spooked as he glanced back at Livy, who was glaring at Piers as she waited for him to push her on the swings.

Piers shrugged. "Bloody miserable, that year was. I'll admit, sometimes I wonder if she wouldn't be better off…" He trailed off, his face heating when he thought about what he'd revealed to the other man—a near stranger—and he hoped Dean would let the subject drop.

He didn't.

"Hey, she—Livy?—seems so happy with you. And it was bloody great of you to take her in. It can't have been easy, but you're doing a great job."

Piers snorted, taking a step backwards even as his heart longed for him to move closer. "You don't know me. How could you possibly mean that?"

Dean ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I know what it's like to be… alone," he admitted softly. The conversation had taken a far more serious turn than Piers could have anticipated, but something made him stay. "Livy needed someone to take care of her, and you stepped in. How is that anything but good?"

Piers turned to look at his cousin's daughter, his heart softening. "I've done… things I regret," he said slowly. "I don't want her to ever go down the path that I…" He swallowed thickly, suddenly unable to go on.

Amazingly, Dean seemed to understand him. "She won't. Not if you keep doing what you're doing."

Piers shook his head. "Thanks. I… thanks."

Dean smiled. "Sure thing. Hey, Piers?"

Piers glanced back at him, brow raised. "Huh?"

Dean looked awkward, glancing between his feet and Piers' nose. "Want to grab a drink sometime? I promise I won't spill it again," he added quickly, his lips quirking into a smile.

Before he could let his head talk him out of it, he said, "Sure. I'd like that."

Somehow, it didn't seem to matter that they knew next to nothing about each other. What Piers had discovered seemed promising—a talent with cars, supportive, almost scarily honest—and he had hopes that whatever Dean saw in him, he could live up to. And maybe, just maybe, things could get better from here.

This was a new beginning, Piers told himself as he walked over to join Livy at last. And maybe the key to giving Livia a happy life was to lead one himself. And who knew? Maybe Dean would be worth it.


	2. Never to be Parted

**A/N: Hey y'all! Back with another one :)**

 **Word Count: 1315**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Warnings for some minor language**

 **For the amazing Amanda, via Gift-Tag**

 **Enjoy!**

James thought the king must be joking. His Lily—his dear, sweet Lily—couldn't possibly be expected to take down the dragon single-handedly, knight or not. But she was standing and bowing, accepting the challenge. He watched numbly as she exited the room, ready to begin preparing for the journey to the outskirts of the kingdom. He longed to race after her, beg her to reconsider, but he had to stay with the prince until he was dismissed, otherwise there would be hell to pay—such was the life of a servant.

The meeting dragged on for another hour, and by the time Sirius told him he could go, James feared that Lily was already riding through the gates of the city. He tore out of the room, looking desperately for a woman with red hair clad in armor—there.

"Lily, wait!" he called.

The woman in question stopped and turned, her helmet tucked neatly under her arm. She raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at him. "James," she said in acknowledgment. "What are you doing here? I have to leave."

"I know you do," he said, panting, "but I—please stay."

She took a step back. "I can't. This is my chance to prove myself, and you want me to give it up?"

"This is dangerous," he protested, reaching for her hand. "Lily, you're a great knight—everyone knows that! But this is a step too far." He ran his hands through his messy black hair, distressed. "Please."

Lily shook her head. "It's not like I'm going to be alone. I'll have a team with me."

Well, James must have missed that part. But when he looked beyond her to see the men saddling up the horses, he snorted. "Is that supposed to make me feel any better? They'll impale themselves with their own swords!"

"James," Lily said sharply, and he knew that she was tiring of this conversation. "I'm going, and that's final. You can support me or not, but I'm leaving _now_."

She turned to go, but James caught her hand.

"Lily," he whispered, his hazel eyes clouded with worry. "I can't just sit here waiting for you to get back when I know how dangerous this is." He swallowed dryly. "I love you. I can't lose you."

Her eyes softened, and she cupped his face with her free hand. "James, I love you, too. You know that. But this is important to me; it's what I signed up for, what I've been training for. I…" She cleared her throat. "I know that I can't promise I'll come back. But I'll try to, for you."

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him chastely before pulling away. Her green eyes peered up at him lovingly.

"Don't you have a prince to attend to?" she asked, subtly prompting him to leave.

James ignored this. "Sirius can wait," he insisted. An idea hit him then, and he grabbed her shoulders. "Could I come with you?"

Lily reeled back in surprise. "Come with me? But you don't have any training!"

"Then I won't fight," he compromised. "I just… I need to be near you."

Lily bit her lip, thinking hard. Finally, she sighed. "If Sirius allows you to, then so will I," she relented.

James hugged her enthusiastically, and felt her shoulders shake as she laughed. "Thank you, Lily! I won't let you down, I promise. I'll only be a minute." He began backing away, towards the prince's chambers. "Don't you dare leave without me!"

Lily looked at him fondly. "I won't," she called. "But hurry!"

He turned around and ran.

* * *

"Sirius, come on!" James begged. "You have to let me go!"

The Black prince looked at him lazily. "Absolutely not. If you want glory, it won't come by chasing dragons. You'll kill yourself."

James hit the wall in frustration. Sirius didn't know about him and Lily, so he understood the other man's worry… but he needed to go on this mission.

"We've been friends since we were kids, Sirius," he said quietly. "Why are you denying me the one thing I've ever asked of you?"

Sirius sat up in bed, glaring at him. "Because this is bloody mental! Why do you want this so badly?" Sirius sighed, tugging at his long, black hair. "James, this is going too far. You realize that half of those knights aren't going to return, right? What would I do if something were to happen to you?"

James sighed, leaning against the stone walls.

"I love Lily," he almost whispered. "I really, really love her, Sirius. I need to be with her. Not knowing… that's the worst hell I can imagine."

Silence followed his words. Finally, the prince spoke.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

James shrugged helplessly. "I dunno. Maybe because I wasn't sure you'd believe in us—a knight and a servant don't usually get on, after all."

Sirius turned away from him, his fists balled at his sides. "I wouldn't have cared about that," he growled. "Since when have I ever—why do you have to go with her?"

James lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry I kept it from you," he said sincerely. "But Sirius… If she doesn't come back, I… I'll die."

Sirius was silent for a long moment. Finally, he strode over to James and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "We'll talk more when you come back. And if you dare die out there, Potter, I'll have your hide. You hear me?"

James returned the embrace, beaming. "Yes, yes, don't worry. I'll see you in a few days!"

He hurried out the door, then poked his head back in, a frown on his face. "Er… Sirius. I might not."

Sirius closed his eyes, face white, as his face tightened with pain. "I know."

James hesitated. "You're like a brother to me," he murmured. "Thank you, for everything."

Sirius' eyes flew open. "No, James. Thank you."

* * *

The days were long, but James didn't complain during their journey. He knew that they would reach their destination soon, and he wanted to cherish every minute of safety they had left.

A little ways in front of him, Lily was leading the group. Her flaming red hair bounced up and down as she rode, and James stared sadly at her back for a long time. When the sky darkened, they made camp, and James brought a bowl of stew over to his lover.

She took it gratefully, flashing him a smile. "Thanks. Smells delicious."

James hummed in thanks, settling himself down next to her. The other men of the party were sitting closer to the fire, guffawing at something or another, so they had their privacy.

"We'll reach the town tomorrow," James said suddenly. "I hope you know that I'll stay by you… whatever happens."

Lily nodded. "I know." She leaned over and kissed him deeply, winding her arms around him. He responded enthusiastically, pulling her closer to him. After a while, the two went to sleep, nervous about what the morning would bring.

As soon as the sun rose the next day, they were off. They travelled through forests and mountainous regions, every step bringing them closer to possible doom. Finally, in the evening—much later than they had anticipated—they heard the screeches of dragons and saw the soft glow of fire in the distance.

Lily glanced back at James, her expression solemn. _Soon_ , she mouthed to him.

He nodded grimly, then pulled his horse up beside hers.

"Until the very end," he murmured. His hand went to touch the spear strapped to his back; he may not be trained in sword fighting, but his aim was deadly. And he'd be damned if he didn't play his part in this battle.

Lily grasped his hand tightly. "Until the very end," she agreed.

The rode towards the carnage, unsure of how the battle would end, but comforted in the fact that they were facing this threat together.


	3. Love in the Air

**A/N: Hey y'all! This is Marlene/Regulus with wedding bells. I've never written this pairing before, so… that's why it's so short :P Also, unbeta'd… because life.**

 **Word Count: 558**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **For the lovely Amanda, via Gift-Tag :)**

 **Enjoy!**

He was standing next to Sirius, looking slightly uncomfortable so near the center of attention. Marlene thought he looked dashing in his black dress robes, and she felt her heart pick up when he glanced her way. She waved at him, winking.

Regulus flushed a delicate pink and flashed her a smile before turning back to his brother. Remus and Sirius were finally getting married, but Marlene found that she only had eyes for the best man. Wedding bells tolled in the distance as the ceremony ended, and Regulus tried to slip away unnoticed in the crowd. Marlene couldn't let this happen, of course—she gave Lily a flimsy excuse and then raced after him.

The chase led her out to the courtyard, where the reception would be held in a few hours' time. Marlene could hardly cross the uneven, grassy terrain in her heels, so she took a moment to pull them off before approaching Regulus.

"Running away from the party?" she asked him, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. He jumped slightly, startled, and turned to her.

"Not running away," he corrected. "Just getting some air."

Marlene scoffed, but she didn't contradict him. She walked until she was right in front of him, and leaned against the tree on her left. "The ceremony was lovely, wasn't it? About time those two got together."

Regulus let loose a small smile, grey eyes crinkling up at the corners. "I agree. It was a much nicer wedding than the ones… I've previously attended."

Marlene knew that he was referring to the many incestuous marriages his family had been a part of over the centuries, though she had no clue how many he'd had to attend. She only knew about the Blacks because Sirius tended to be very verbal about them, and she hoped that half of the things that he'd suffered through Regulus had escaped from.

But today was too joyous of an occasion to be tainted by such thoughts.

She stuck out a hand, blue eyes friendly. "Marlene McKinnon. I don't think we've ever been introduced properly."

Regulus shook her hand politely and Marlene thanked her lucky stars that she didn't blush. "Regulus Black. It's a pleasure."

Marlene grinned at him. She wasn't blind—she knew that Regulus was at least a little bit interested in her. She fully intended to make him see that she wanted to get to know him, too.

"Charmed," she chirped. "Hey, the reception isn't for another few hours, right?"

Regulus quirked a black eyebrow. "Yes, I think that's right."

Marlene punched his shoulder lightly. "Fancy going out for a drink with me before we have to be back here? Just the one, I suppose, but it could be fun."

Regulus looked surprised for a moment, almost as if he couldn't believe that she wanted to go out with him, of all people. "I—yes, I do. Yes."

Marlene beamed and looped her arm through his, still holding her heels in her other hand. "Excellent. I'm sure it will be splendid evening, Mr. Black."

Regulus let out a laugh, and it was the most wonderful thing Marlene had ever heard. "I think you're right, Miss McKinnon."

The two slipped away from the rest of the wedding party, and if they were late for the reception, well, that was nobody's business but their own.


	4. Just After Sunrise

**A/N: Hey y'all! Back again with LuciusNarcissa, baby's first kick. Another shortie, but so fun to write. :)**

 **Word Count: 682**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Thanks to Ari for beta'ing!**

 **This was written for the lovely Amanda**

 **Enjoy!**

Lucius smiled down at his sleeping wife, running his fingers lightly through her long, blonde hair. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep, and he cherished these early morning moments when they were unbothered by everything except each other.

His gaze wandered down to his wife's abdomen, where their baby was making its presence known. Lucius had thought that the temporary loss of her figure would upset his wife, but the opposite seemed to have happened. She loved to see how their child was growing, and Lucius loved it just as much.

He sat up in bed, running a hand through his own blond hair, smiling sleepily. He was going to be a _father._ It didn't matter that the world was crashing down around them, that a war was just outside their home, that he didn't know if he would die tomorrow—he was going to be a father, and he would do whatever it took to protect his wife and child.

Narcissa hummed as she woke up, grey eyes still heavy with sleep. Lucius leaned down to kiss her temple in greeting. "Good morning, love," she murmured.

He brushed her hair out of her face. "Good morning," he answered. "How are you feeling?"

Narcissa pushed herself up into a sitting position, so happy she was almost glowing. "Fine. The morning sickness seems to have finally worn off."

"There's still quite a bit of morning left to prove you wrong," Lucius teased.

She batted his arm playfully. "Oh, hush. What has you up so early, anyway?"

Lucius pulled her against his side, and she rested her head on his chest. "I'm not sure. I think I must be excited about the baby."

Narcissa smiled fondly down at the little bump, her hand resting on top of it. "Oh, I don't blame you. I'm excited for this little bundle—oh!"

Lucius sat up, alarmed, his muscles tense. He was confused when he realized that Narcissa was smiling, but his shoulders lost some of their tension. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, no it isn't!" Narcissa laughed gleefully. "Oh, Lucius, give me your hand, quick."

He reached it out hesitantly, and she grabbed it and placed it where her own had been, on her stomach. He looked at his wife confusedly, feeling nothing. Just when he opened his mouth to ask her what this was about, he felt a tiny kick.

His eyes widened, and Narcissa beamed. "Strong, isn't he?"

Lucius looked up to meet her eyes, but he didn't remove his hand. "He? It could be a girl, you know."

"It's a boy," Narcissa told him confidently. "Call it mother's intuition."

Lucius laughed, gazing at her fondly. "Fine, then. But if it turns out that it's a girl, we'll have to change names rather quickly."

Narcissa leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips, short and sweet. He sighed, content, and couldn't help the bubble of joy that welled up inside him when he felt the baby kick again.

"He likes you," his wife said.

Lucius felt a stab of guilt when he realized that Narcissa hadn't had a turn feeling their baby in a while. "Here, you can feel now—what?"

She was laughing at him, but for the love of Merlin he couldn't figure out why.

"I don't need to put my hand there," she said at last, taking pity on him. "I can feel it already."

Lucius let out a short burst of laughter. "You're right," he said, shaking his head at himself. "I'm sorry, Cissy… I suppose it still feels a bit unreal."

She offered him a gentle smile. "I know what you mean," she admitted softly. "But you better believe it, because he'll be here in just a few months."

Lucius grinned. "In June."

"Yes. In June."

The small family sat like that for a very long time, wrapped up in their happiness and love for each other. A war was waging outside, but in that moment it didn't matter. They had each other, and they were content in the knowledge that that was all they needed.


	5. Because of the Rain

**A/N: Hey y'all! I'm back with a NevilleHannah coffeeshop!au :)**

 **Word Count: 1502**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **For Amanda**

 **Enjoy!**

Hannah Abbott rushed through the crowded streets of London, trying desperately to reach the bus stop. She'd miss it if she didn't hurry, and she _really_ didn't want to be late for work again.

She turned a corner and her blue eyes widened when she saw the bus loading its passengers. Hannah sped up, her blonde hair flying out behind her, but it was no use—the crowds were too thick to move through, and the bus pulled away from the stop before she could get to it.

Hannah groaned in frustration, eyes stormy. She would have to wait for the next bus and suffer the consequences. She walked over to a nearby bench to sit down, but just as she did so the sky opened up and it began _pouring_. Cursing the weather and her lack of umbrella, she rushed into the nearest shop to wait out the rain.

The bells chimed as she entered, a cheery sound that did not at all match the mood she was in. She'd only been caught in the rain for a few seconds, but she was soaked to the bone. Hannah pushed some wet strands of hair out of her face and sighed, looking around. She was in a small, homey cafe, decorated with local artists' work and various movie posters. The smell of coffee and pastries was thick in the air, and some of the chill she'd been feeling melted away.

"Miss? Would you like to order something?"

She jumped slightly, startled. Hannah turned to see a broad-shouldered, round-faced man about her age smiling at her behind the counter. He had dark hair that was swept towards his right eye, and the kindest face she had ever seen. She was suddenly embarrassed to be seen in her soaked work clothes and dripping hair.

"Oh, um, sure," she said. She cast a quick glance at the menu before she ordered. "I'll have a, um, latte, please. Smallest size you have—I have to try and catch the next bus." She grinned at him a bit apologetically, and he just nodded in understanding.

As he began to work on her drink, he began chatting with her. There weren't many people in the building, and Hannah rather liked that it was just the two of them.

"Rain came on a bit suddenly, didn't it?"

She laughed. "You can say that again. Bit stupid of me not to bring an umbrella, but there you go."

He smiled at her a bit shyly, which she found endearing. He came over and handed over her drink, his brown eyes kind. "Here you go. Having anything else?"

"Oh, no thank you," Hannah said. "I have to pop in the office, and I'm afraid I'll forget that if I sit down to eat." She took a sip of her coffee as she rummaged around her purse, looking for her wallet, and hummed in delight when she tasted it.

"This is great!" she told him enthusiastically. "Best I've had in a while, that's for sure."

The man flushed slightly, but he looked pleased. "Thank you."

Hannah handed over the money, smiling broadly. "I'm Hannah Abbott, by the way."

The man stuck out his hand. "Neville Longbottom," he replied. "Nice to meet you."

She returned the sentiment, shaking his hand over the counter. She had to dash out rather quickly after that, braving the rain once more, and was disappointed that her bus had interrupted their moment.

* * *

She thought that was the last she'd see of Neville, but she was wrong. On a whim, she stopped by the same cafe later that week, dry this time. She ordered another coffee, then went to sit down. She kept her eye out for Neville, but he didn't seem to be there. She sighed mentally. She should've known it was too good to be true.

Then the bells above the door chimed and she saw him run in.

Hannah's interest immediately piqued. She watched him list off a rambly apology for his lateness, which the manager—a woman with fierce, red hair and a motherly look about her—waved aside. Neville went to his station a bit sheepishly, and Hannah decided that she could really use a muffin.

She wasn't sure why the barista was so interesting to her, but he was. He gave off an aura of sweetness, which was something her life often lacked. It was written all over his face, too—in the one dimple on his left cheek when he smiled, and the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he spoke to her… She wanted to see more of him.

When she reached the counter, she was excited to see his eyes light up in recognition. "Hullo," she greeted cheerily. "Thought I might grab a muffin, if you don't mind."

Neville smiled easily and nodded. "Of course I don't. D'you care which kind?"

His tone was teasing, but Hannah answered, "Nope! Surprise me."

His brow rose, like he hadn't been expecting that answer, and Hannah resisting the urge to laugh. She grinned at him innocently, and his lips tugged upwards. When he passed over the bag holding the mystery muffin, Hannah realized that she wasn't quite ready to say goodbye yet.

"I work at the library a few blocks over," she said impulsively. "Do you know it?"

Neville nodded, but he looked as though the question had caught him off guard. "Yes, I think so."

"Well," Hannah said slowly, twisting her hair around her finger, a nervous habit she'd had since she was small. "If you want to stop by sometime, that would be great."

Neville brightened. "Sure, I'd love to."

"Great!" Hannah said. She began to back away, but another bout of courage came over her. "We could grab lunch sometime too, if you wanted."

To her relief, Neville nodded. "Sounds perfect."

Hannah beamed. "I guess I'll see you around, then."

He nodded again. "Yes. Enjoy that," he added, motioning toward the muffin.

"I will," she promised. When she left the cafe, she felt lighter than she had in weeks.

* * *

Neville didn't come in the next day. Or the day after that—or the one after that. In fact, after a week, Hannah was wondering whether he really planned on popping in at all.

She avoided the cafe, worried that she would see Neville. If he did show up, she wasn't sure what she would say—but it wouldn't be good. She began to wish that she had just brought an umbrella with her that day—then none of this would ever have happened.

She didn't know him well at all, but she had thought that they had potential. They were both interested in one another, that much was clear, but maybe he hadn't been as interested as she was.

So when he walked through the library doors at noon on the dot one afternoon, she was unprepared.

He walked up to her desk, and she felt some of her hostility melting when she saw how haggard he looked. There were bags under his eyes, his skin was paler than she remembered, and he looked nervous as he approached.

"I meant to get back to you sooner," he said softly as a way of greeting. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Hannah hesitated. She was annoyed, but he sounded very sincere. She decided that she should at least give him a chance to explain himself. "And why did it?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably. Hannah crossed her arms, unimpressed. If he didn't have an excuse, then there wasn't any reason for him to be here. She was about to shoo him out when he blurted, "My parents are… unwell. I had to see them unexpectedly. I'm sorry I can't tell you more than that, but Hannah, that's the truth."

She studied him carefully, ignoring the way her heart fluttered slightly when he said her name. It was a flimsy excuse, but she could understand not wanting to divulge private information to someone who was practically a stranger. And she really _did_ like him.

In the end, she decided that taking a chance couldn't hurt. "All right, then," she said with a smile. Her heart warmed when his face brightened. "I hope your parents get well soon."

A shadow of pain flickered over Neville's face, but it was gone before Hannah could analyze it. "Thank you," he said softly. Then he changed the subject. "Would you like to grab that lunch now?"

Hannah blushed prettily, then placed her hand in the one Neville was holding out to her. "Why not? Do you know a place, Neville? Or shall I pick?"

Neville's smile was blinding. "You pick," he said.

Months later, Hannah would learn why his parents couldn't get better, and why he needed to visit them at random, unpredictable times. She would listen and understand, because by that time she would have already fallen in love with him. But right then, in that moment, all the two knew was that they were really, really excited to have this chance.


	6. This Pounding in Our Hearts

**A/N: Hey y'all! This is a… very late… gift fic for Audrey. So sorry for the delay, love, I don't know where my head was at.**

 **Word Count: 954**

 **Enjoy!**

Kingsley Shacklebolt's long, dark fingers dug into Rosmerta's wild, curly hair. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, but he stayed hunched under the bar of the Three Broomsticks, cramped though it was. Rosmerta was pressed tightly against him, her limbs tangled with his as they listened to the Death Eaters tear the place apart.

Kingsley closed his eyes. He trusted the protective spells he'd placed around them, but he couldn't stop the fear from clenching around his heart. All he could think of was Florean Fortescue in Diagon Alley, dragged right out of his own shop—and they'd come for Rosmerta, too.

They weren't having her, not as long as he breathed.

Finally, after countless minutes of listening to the enemy trash the entire pub out of distress and rage, Kingsley heard one of them snarl, "Enough is enough. She's not here—heard wind of it from someone, or somethin'. We'd best be off."

Once they were gone, Kingsley tentatively poked his head over the counter. He scanned the shop, taking in the splintered tables and toppled chairs. It was dark, the only light came spilling from the sun through the windows, glittering as it hit the shattered glass covering the floor. The Three Broomsticks was completely destroyed, but Rosmerta was safe—that was what mattered.

Kingsley stood up fully and looked down at the woman still crouching below him. He cleared his throat. "They're gone."

She didn't respond at first. Then, slowly, she looked up at him, her face paler than he'd ever seen it. She got to her feet, using the counter as support, and took in the damage with a grim look on her face. Her slim fingers slowly stretched out to touch one of the busted kegs of butterbeer, the drink still dripping onto the floor. She let out a strangled laugh.

"Oh, they're gone," she confirmed bitterly, "but they took more than they thought they did."

Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder. His deep voice was solemn when he spoke. "They're only things. What's important is that you're safe."

"This is my _livelihood!"_ Rosmerta burst out angrily, but her fury wasn't directed at the man beside her. "I've dedicated my entire life to turn this place into what it is, and now what? Nearly forty years of work, _gone_."

Kingsley didn't speak as she walked around the counter and sat down in one of the few chairs still intact. She dropped her head into her hands.

The Auror watched her carefully, biting his tongue. Adrenaline was still racing through his veins, but the shock was beginning to subside; he'd come so close to losing her. If he hadn't come when he did… If Hestia hadn't tipped him off…

Kingsley made his way over to her, glass crunching underfoot. He waved his wand and wordlessly locked the door, adding the same protection spells that had hidden them beneath the counter. He crouched down before his partner, tilting her chin up until her green eyes met his black ones.

He knew that the woman before him was strong; he'd seen it when they were in school, and throughout the war. But she was reaching her limit now, and Kingsley knew that it was time to step up.

"The Aurors will be here soon," he said softly. "We need to get you out of here before they do—we don't know who could be under the Imperius curse."

Rosmerta rolled her eyes. "Oh, let them come. This hiding, the fear—I'm sick of it."

Kingsley stilled at those words. "You don't want them to find you."

"No, of course I don't. I just… This is war, and I'm no soldier, Kingsley." Her voice quieted at the admission, and she balled her hands into fists. "We can't keep running from the inevitable."

Kingsley gripped both of her shoulders with his hands tightly, uncaring of the shards of glass cutting into his knees and the liquor seeping into his robes. "We can survive this."

Rosmerta scoffed and looked away. "That's not—"

"We can make it through, as long as we're together," he insisted firmly. "I don't know what the future will bring, but of that much I'm certain."

Rosmerta looked at him for a long moment, her face a perfect mask. "Do you really believe that?" she whispered at last. "Do you really think we can get out of this unscathed?"

He looked around at what remained of the pub, considering her words carefully. "We've already been hurt," he said slowly, "but I think there's hope."

Rosmerta huffed out a soft laugh, her eyes glittering with emotion that Kingsley couldn't decipher. She grasped his hands and dropped her head, brushing her lips against his. "There's always hope where you're concerned. It's one of the reasons why I love you so much."

Kingsley deepened the kiss, his hand coming up to cup her tear-streaked cheek. He wiped some of the remaining wetness away with his thumb. "The feeling is reciprocated," he assured her.

After a moment, Rosmerta pulled away. "Okay," she said hoarsely, "okay. Let's go, before the Aurors arrive."

Kingsley nodded and led the way towards the door. Rosmerta looked around one last time at her beloved pub—perhaps saying goodbye, but she could also have been recalling all the memories that were set in this place. It had been her home, after all.

Whatever the case, Kingsley didn't interrupt the silence. He understood that this was not something to be spoiled with words. When Rosmerta finally joined him at the door, he put a hand on her shoulder; his eyes said all she needed to hear.

After checking that the coast was clear, the two slipped out into Hogsmeade and Disapparated with a lonely _crack_.


	7. Let Me In

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Amber. :) I'm SO SORRY it took me this long.**

 **Amulets and Talismans Task 8: Write about protecting someone from harm**

 **Word Count: 3554**

 **WARNINGS: Language**

 **Thanks to Grace for beta-ing!**

 **Enjoy!**

Draco bit his lip as he and Percy approached the small house, the snow crunching underfoot. Uneasiness had settled within him, and he felt horribly on edge.

"Remind me why we're doing this?" he whispered to his boyfriend.

Percy shot him an unimpressed look, raising a red brow. "It's the holidays, and it's important to spend time with family."

 _Your family_ , Draco wanted to protest. He didn't, though; his father was in prison and his mother was in France trying to come to terms with their new reality. Percy always visited family for Christmas, so if Draco didn't tag along, he'd be home alone. Still, it didn't escape his notice that he was there by _Percy's_ invitation.

It wasn't the Burrow they were going to, either—for reasons unknown to Draco, the Weasley family was breaking tradition and gathering at the Weasley-Granger household instead. Draco really wasn't looking forward to going inside.

But they'd reached the door, and Percy had already knocked. The older man placed a comforting hand on the small of Draco's back. "It'll be fine," he murmured. "Mum loves you."

She was the only one, and Draco suspected that it had more to do with the fact that he was dating her son than with his personality. Still, he appreciated her effort… and she'd made him quite contrite about the horrible things he'd said about her in his youth.

Draco nervously adjusted the silver and green scarf around his neck. The Slytherin colors might not have been the best choice when going to visit a bunch of Gryffindors, but the wool scarf was the warmest Draco owned. It hadn't seemed like such a big issue when they'd been leaving their flat, but now he regretted choosing the luxury. Freezing seemed like a better option than sticking out at his boyfriend's family gathering did.

Then the door opened, interrupted his internal dilemma.

"Percy!"

Granger had opened the door. Her belly was swollen with her second child, but that didn't stop her from enveloping Percy in a big embrace. She brushed some of the snow off of his jacket and shivered. "Come inside, it's cold out here. Oh, you brought Draco!"

She was still smiling, but the skin around her eyes tightened and she stiffened as though she was expecting an attack. It had been many years since they'd been in such close proximity with one another, so Draco supposed it was a fair assessment.

"Happy Christmas, Granger," he managed. His grey eyes flickered down to her stomach. "Er. Congratulations."

She seemed to relax slightly at that and smiled a bit more warmly. "Happy Christmas. And call me Hermione—we've known each other for ages, it's silly to keep using our surnames."

He nodded hesitantly. Draco wasn't sure where he stood with the woman before him, but she was willing to be civil, for which he was grateful. Hermione then guided them inside, moving slowly to compensate the child inside of her. This only seemed to prolong Draco's nerves, but he kept his chin up; he didn't want Percy to realize just how deeply he feared this family gathering.

Hermione waved them through a doorway. "The rest of the family's in there. Food and drink can be found in the kitchen. Oh, and before I forget—" She opened the handbag that had been dangling from her wrist and stuck her arm in, nearly to her armpit. Draco's brows rose, and Percy seemed mildly impressed. Then she pulled out a box and turned back to her guests. "This is for your wands. Everyone's put theirs in—it's to prevent accidents involving the kids, and any sort of dueling."

Draco blanched at the idea of giving up his wand, no matter who in the house was prone to drunken dueling, but Percy didn't seem surprised. He handed his wand over easily enough.

When Hermione held the box out in Draco's direction, he considered telling her that he wasn't as inclined to recklessness as the rest of her family was, and that it was completely ridiculous to expect him to give up his magic for an evening. But then he looked at Percy, who was watching him expectantly through his glasses, and he knew that he'd just have to do it.

"Take care of it," he said in a strained voice. Hermione, to her credit, just smiled and nodded.

And then they entered the sitting room. It seemed like every eye fastened itself onto Draco, and he unconsciously straightened his spine. He wanted to be good enough for them, he realized—he wanted them to think him worthy of Percy.

Judging from the glare half of Percy's brothers were giving him, that wouldn't be an easy task.

It was Arthur Weasley who spoke first. "Percy, Draco!" He stood and walked over to them, embracing his son and shaking Draco's hand happily—though he seemed unable to maintain eye contact with his son's lover for long. It was completely understandable; he and Draco's father had once come to blows in a bookshop, after all. "So glad you both could make it. Molly's in the kitchen, if you're hungry… I think Harry and Fleur are back there as well…"

Draco's gaze slid past Arthur and fell on Ron, who was glowering in the Slytherin's direction. Biting down on his lip, Draco wondered why he'd ever thought he could do this.

"...isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco's grey eyes snapped from Ron back to Arthur, and he cursed himself for not paying more attention—

"Uncle Percy!"

A small figure pushed past Draco and Arthur and collided into Percy, and Draco had never before been so grateful for a child's interruption. He watched with some amusement as Percy gripped the girl under her arms and hoisted her onto his hip. With a grin, the older man turned to his lover.

"Draco, this is Rose. Rose, say hi to Draco."

Her bushy hair and dark eyes made it clear who her parents were—she was the spitting image of her mother. But when she waved hello to Draco, it was her father's grin on her face. He smiled weakly back.

Then Ron cut in. "Come on, Rosie, I'm sure Uncle Percy will play with you later. Go find Mummy, why don't you?" He placed his daughter on the ground and watched her giggle and run from the room, then turned to Draco. "Malfoy."

Draco raised his chin. "Weasley."

"Ron." Percy's voice was filled with warning. "Let's not. Draco, would you mind grabbing me a plate? I've been meaning to catch up with my brother…"

Recognizing a gift when he saw it, Draco hastened to obey. Unfortunately, he discovered that Arthur's assumption that Potter was in the kitchen was correct. Fortunately, Potter seemed content to give him a nod in greeting and then go about his business. Molly tried to trap him in conversation, but was quickly diverted by a cooking question Potter asked.

Draco took the opportunity to quickly make up two plates. He forgoed the oysters (a French tradition, he recalled dimly) and the shrimp (a favorite of Bill's, he remembered Percy mentioning), and took some of the turkey. He added a few other things to the plates, then realized he'd have to return to the sitting room.

There wasn't a drop of alcohol in sight, so liquid courage was out of the question. Draco steeled himself and hoped that Weasley was off chasing his daughter somewhere, then entered back into the fray.

Weasley hadn't left, but Percy had already detached himself from the festivities. Relieved, Draco hurried to join him in the corner.

"Too loud?" he asked as he handed a plate over. Percy looked over sharply, then seemed to relax when he realized that Draco was the one who'd spoken.

"Not really," he admitted quietly. He took his fork and speared a piece of meat with it. "It's just difficult to break back into the fold when I spent so long trying to escape it. They don't—I don't really connect with any of them anymore."

Draco looked at him carefully, then glanced around the room. He saw Bill laughing with his wife and two daughters, Charlie and George entertaining Potter's two children, Ginny in deep conversation with her father and Angelina Johnson, Weasley and Granger trying to calm down a fussing Rose…

He raised an eyebrow at his lover. "None of them are treating you with any particular contempt," he noted mildly.

Percy finally ate the piece of turkey. "None of them are looking at me," he pointed out.

"You're avoiding their gaze."

His boyfriend didn't look very impressed. "Whose side are you on?" he asked tiredly.

Draco's grey eyes snapped back to Percy's blue. There had been a time where they'd both had to choose a side—and had chosen incorrectly. Now they were paying for their choices through estrangement, insecurity, and a sense of brokenness. There was no honor in being wrong, but there was honor in repenting one's mistakes. Sometimes, though, it seemed like an impossible task.

"I think," he said slowly, "that creating a distinction between _you_ and _them_ is the last thing you want to do."

Percy sucked in a shuddering breath. "I've lost my place in their lives."

"You're still their brother."

"They've lost their trust in me," Percy countered. "They don't respect me. I suspect I've been invited out of formality only."

Draco's gaze fell back on the little girl with wild hair. "Your niece seemed happy enough to see you."

Percy turned to face Rose, too, and a small smile lit his face. "Yes. She has a bright mind… she loves listening to the stories I tell. She loves to learn."

"She loves _you_."

Percy swallowed thickly, and for a moment, Draco thought he might not answer. But then he reached out and took Draco's hand with his free one. "Do you hate me," he asked quietly, "for making you come here?"

His brow furrowing, Draco cleared his throat. "What do you mean?"

"I know that you don't get on with Ron," Percy explained. "But you came anyway because I asked you to. Do you wish that I hadn't?"

He wasn't really sure why he was hesitating. He knew the answer, but finding the words to express his emotions felt suddenly impossible. Did he hate Percy for asking him to come to a Christmas dinner with his family? No. Did he wish he wasn't attending? Yes… but also no.

Draco sucked in a breath and gestured towards the people in the room. "It's a necessary hell," he murmured at last. He gave his boyfriend a wry smile. "I don't want to be hated by your family forever, you know."

"They don't hate you," Percy said in a strangled voice. "Merlin, Draco, they don't."

Draco leaned against the wall. "How would you know? You said you escaped the fold."

A startled laugh escaped Percy, and Draco grinned triumphantly. "Merlin. Shut up, Malfoy."

"Hmm." Draco glanced up at Percy—there was a three-inch height difference between them—and grew solemn. He thought of the whispers, the disconnect, the scorn that had followed them after the war. "I refuse to let the world break me," he whispered. "Don't let it break you."

Percy opened his mouth to respond—how, Draco wasn't sure—but Granger chose that moment to announce that it was time everyone ventured into the garden.

Percy cleared his throat and held his arm out to Draco. "Care to accompany me?"

Draco grumbled his discontent at going back out into the cold, then marched away without taking Percy's arm.

* * *

It wasn't long before the snow soaked through Draco's cloak. He was shivering, but he had to admit that it wasn't so bad when Percy tucked him under his arm. Weasley ruined it a bit when he snorted with disgust, though.

When Draco pointed this out to Percy, the older man's lips twitched.

"You do know that we're all called Weasley, don't you? You act like it's only Ron."

Draco shrugged. "He'll always be Weasley to me."

Blue eyes locked onto him. "Then you'll always be Malfoy to him."

That had never occurred to him. Draco bit his lip and let his silence speak volumes.

Thankfully, their conversation was soon interrupted by the screeching of children as they were let loose into the yard. Percy quickly pulled Draco out of the kids' path, chuckling as they all hurtled away—or toddled, in some cases. Draco let his lips twitch upwards as he watched them all. Theirs was a happiness he'd never experienced as a child; watching them made him feel just a little bit more free.

The next hour passed quickly. He and Percy occasionally made small talk with the rest of the family—surprisingly, Charlie had no reservations about Percy's past actions or choice in lover—but for the most part, the two stuck to themselves. It wasn't unpleasant, but Draco caught the wistful looks Percy sent the rest of the group.

He put a hand on the other man's knee. "They'll come around."

Percy didn't seem convinced. "It's been years."

"You don't come around often. They aren't used to you being back yet."

He watched Percy's fingers curl and uncurl. "Maybe you're right." His freckles should have been dark against his pale cheeks, but the cold was tingeing his face pink. Draco resisted the urge to brush his thumbs over the flushed skin. He contented himself with resting his head against Percy's shoulder, instead.

They walked around some, exploring the garden leisurely. There were a few large trees that Draco was sure the children loved to scale, a small vegetable patch, flowers dotted here and there… and plenty of gnomes. Percy had some amusing childhood stories about the little creatures; Draco quite enjoyed hearing about them.

As much fun as their walk was, though, the fact that they were still separate from the rest of the family hung over them like a cloud. When everyone was called back inside to eat, Draco and Percy were both relieved; the party would be over soon, and they'd be able to go home.

"About time, too," Draco whispered to his lover as they trekked back to the house. "I can hardly feel my fingers."

Sadly, it seemed that fate didn't want him to warm himself just yet. Granger was by the back door, anxiously squeezing her husband's fingers. When she saw Draco and Percy approaching, her brown eyes locked onto them.

"Percy, Draco—do you mind going to find Rose? I'm feeling a bit…" She closed her eyes, halting her sentence. Weasley had a firm hand on her back and cleared his throat as he looked at the other two men.

"Hermione isn't feeling well. Could you just make sure Rosie made it inside while I help her sit down, please?"

The words seemed difficult for Weasley to say, and Draco realized that this was his chance to prove that he was better than before, that he could be trusted. He squeezed Percy's arm and nodded.

"We'll get her," he said quietly, trying not to give Weasley reason to doubt him.

Ron bit his lip, but his nerves seemed to settle when his eyes landed on Percy. He trusted one of them, at least. "Right. Thanks."

The couple hurried inside, leaving Percy and Draco in the snow. Percy decided to take a quick look inside, since he was more familiar with the house, and left Draco to search outside. Grumbling softly to himself as he pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, Draco headed back into the cold.

Draco doubted that the child would have lingered outside—Molly had promised the children cocoa—but he still peeked around bushes and through the frozen flower beds in case Rose was hiding from them. Nothing.

He turned around to head inside, and that's when he saw her. It had to be the most impressive display of accidental magic he'd ever seen, because little Rose was on the ground one minute… and then was clutching one of the top branches of a tree.

Fear tightened Draco's chest as he hurried forwards, horribly aware that the house was too far away to hear his shouts and that he _did not have his wand_.

"Rose!" He raced towards the tree where the little girl clung precariously. "I'm coming for you, don't move!"

Rose watched him come with wide eyes. Draco paused at the trunk of the tree, the gravity of the situation painfully clear. It would be a difficult climb, but Draco was grabbing the trunk before he was even aware that he'd made a decision.

Years of playing Quidditch had evidently paid off. Draco pulled himself up with only a small amount of difficulty, keeping his eyes on Rose to make sure she didn't topple off—every jostle of the tree struck fear into his heart. If he messed this up, she would plummet to the ground.

"I'm coming," he called to her. "Stay there, don't move. Hold on tight."

She only nodded.

Finally, he reached the branch. Draco held a hand out to Rose, inching slowly closer to her. "Grab my hand," he said. "Hold onto my hand."

It took some coaxing, but he convinced her to lift her arms. He took the opportunity to quickly scoop her up, holding her tightly against his chest. He sat there for a moment, Rose in one arm. She was safe. The words kept echoing around his head— _she was safe._

Draco descended as though on autopilot, hardly aware of what was happening. Once his feet were firmly planted on the snow, he came out of his numb state and realized there were people shouting and coming over. Realized he was trembling from the leftover adrenaline. Realized that Rose was sniffling and holding his neck tightly. Realized that Percy was trying to pry the little girl from his arms.

He released Rose stiffly and watched as she was handed off to Ron, who looked beside himself with relief. After a second, the father turned to Draco.

"She—you—climbed the—"

Draco swallowed thickly and tried to regain some of his lost composure. "It seems that your daughter's a witch, Weasley."

"Oh my god, who the hell cares? You climbed the fucking tree, Malfoy. _You climbed the fucking tree._ "

Draco blinked, unsure of how to respond to the decidedly _non hostile_ tone. "She'd have fallen."

"Exactly," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Exactly."

This wasn't familiar territory, so Draco let Weasley process the situation on his own. He let himself be tucked under Percy's arm and followed the two other men back into the house. He was shivering rather badly and was beyond relieved to reach the warmth of the house. Ron headed into the sitting room with a still-quaking Rose, but Percy and Draco hung back for a moment.

"That was really brave," Percy said at last. "Really, when I looked out the window and saw her up there… I thought for sure she was going to fall."

Draco cleared his throat. "Well. She didn't."

Percy's lips twitched as he unwound the scarf from around Draco's neck. "Thanks to you."

Draco hesitated, still a bit shell-shocked. The fear he'd just experienced… it was so much different from the fear he'd felt before. It was something much more raw, much more powerful. If it had been so strong for him, he could only imagine what Ron must have felt, being the girl's father…

"Is there something wrong with us?" he asked suddenly, thinking about how foreign that fear had been, how foreign the gratitude that was so clear in Ron's eyes had been. "That we… that we don't _do_ this? I've never saved anyone before—" He stopped abruptly. He'd never saved anyone before. He'd fought a war, and he'd never helped anyone in that way.

 _His hands were still trembling_.

Percy paused, surprised, then tilted his head to the side. "Can I be honest with you?" Draco nodded. "You sound like a raving lunatic. You don't have to alter the course of history to be a good or bad person." Here Percy hesitated. "We've made mistakes," he admitted softly, "but we're trying, aren't we? And that… I think that's what counts. Which, I think, is what you were trying to say earlier."

Draco nodded, some of his sense coming back to him. "Yes, you're… you're right." He swallowed, then ran a hand through his hair. "Shall we join the rest of them, then?"

Percy dipped his head, letting his lips brush against Draco's forehead. "Sure. But Draco… They might not have warmed to you yet, but… I don't want you to change. I want you to always be you. So don't try and please them, like I know you've been doing—"

Draco cocked a brow. "Just try and please you?"

Percy laughed lowly. "Exactly."

The air considerably lighter, the two joined the rest of the family. Rose was on her mother's lap, recovered from her misadventure, and Ron seemed to be in the middle of recounting the tale to his brothers. He locked eyes with Draco and gave a quick, firm nod.

Draco understood it as the thanks it was. And though it wasn't a perfect happy ending, it was a good start. There was hope for them, at least.

Draco weaved his fingers through Percy's and let out a slow exhale. For the first time all day, he let himself relax.

 **A/N:**

 **Gift-Tag: PercyDraco, "I refuse to let the world break me."**

 **WC: Assorted Appreciation: 11. GryffindorSlytherin relationship**

 **WC: Disney Challenge: T4. Write about someone working hard for something important to them**

 **WC: Trope of the Month: 11. (dialogue) "I'm coming for you, don't move!" BONUS**

 **WC: World of Comics: 9. (action) running**

 **WC: Book Club: Chaol — (word) honor, (dialogue) "Can I be honest with you? You sound like a raving lunatic.", (emotions) insecure**

 **WC: Showtime: 12. (season) winter**

 **WC: Amber's Attic: 2. Write about someone holding a grudge**

 **WC: Lizzy's Loft: 5. (food) shrimp**

 **WC: Empire: 4. "I don't want you to change. I want you to always be you."**

 **WC: Liza's Loves: 13. "Is there something wrong with us?"**

 **WC: Angel's Archives: 5. Write about encountering a dangerous situation**

 **WC: Scamander's Case: 28. (emotion) gratitude**

 **WC: Bex's Basement: 18. "Oh my god, who the hell cares?"**

 **WC: Film Festival: 10. (plot point) helping someone out**

 **WC: Marvel Appreciation: O - (relationship) father/son**

 **WC: Lyric Alley: 10. What the hell am I doing here? BONUS**

 **Seasonal: Days of the Year: Make Up Your Mind Day: Write about making a choice**

 **Seasonal: Winter: 4. (word) wool**

 **Seasonal: Colors: 1. Emerald green**

 **Seasonal: Birthstones: 1. Garnet: "Come inside, it's cold out here."**

 **Seasonal: Flowers: 5. (plot) visiting family or friends**

 **Seasonal: Tarot Cards: 7. (theme) reunion**

 **Seasonal: Water: 5. (word) soaked**

 **Seasonal: Build a Playlist: "I want to hold your hand."**

 **Seasonal: Slytherin: (character) Draco Malfoy, (trait) determined, (color) green**

 **Seasonal: Star Chart: Annual Solar Eclipse: Write about having only one chance to do something**

 **Seasonal: Religious Holidays: St. Joseph's Day: (color) red**

 **Seasonal: History: 14. Write about someone seeking warmth**

 **Game Night: 6. (theme) family**

 **Sweet Dreams: 23. Fog: Write about someone acting cautiously**

 **Fortnightly: Time Capsule: Child's drawing - (relationship) child & grown-up**

 **Fortnightly: I Love You 2020: 7. (object) glasses**


	8. Darling, You Look Perfect

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Amanda, using (pairing) GinnyLuna and (plot point) a first dance together.**

 **Word Count: 842**

 **Enjoy!**

"You know, I never realized we lived so close to each other." Ginny swung her feet back and forth as she spoke to Luna, perched atop the wooden fence circling the Lovegoods' property. "We should visit each other more often."

"Oh yes!" Luna's silvery blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at Ginny from where she was crouched; she'd been studying something in the tall grass. "I'd love to!"

Ginny grinned widely and toyed with the ends of her braids. It was the summer after their fourth year, and their friendship bond had only grown stronger after the misfortune at the Ministry. It was a friendship Ginny was beginning to hope would transform into something… more.

Luna cast her gaze to the night sky. Only the earliest stars were out, and there was still an hour or so before the girls would be forced to head inside. Ginny brushed her red hair from her face and hopped off the fence, enjoying the feeling of the cold wet grass under her bare feet. "What're you doing?" she asked the Ravenclaw.

Luna smiled serenely up at her. "I'm trying to determine if mooncalves were here last night," she answered softly. "Last night was a full moon, you know. They only come out on those nights."

Ginny hummed and bobbed her head up and down in agreement. She'd heard of mooncalves, unlike most of Luna's creature obsessions; she wasn't sure if they were native to the area, though. "You know, it's a really nice night out."

Luna cast her gaze to the sky, her long blonde hair cascading down her back; Ginny's heartbeat quickened. "It is," Luna agreed. "The moon is especially bright tonight."

They just stood there in silence for a moment, enjoying each other's company and listening to the sounds around them. Luna often faded into the background at school, but she always managed to capture Ginny's full attention—because of Luna, Ginny had learned to appreciate and listen to the little things. Right then, she could hear the crickets chirping, the wind rustling the leaves, even a brook babbling somewhere in the nearby woods. They were beautiful noises.

Luna was swaying to them. As if reading Ginny's mind, she said, "It's like a song. Nature has its own music, doesn't it?"

Ginny smiled. "It does. Beautiful enough to dance to, even."

Luna's gaze drifted over to Ginny. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, but she seemed pleased. "Would you like to?"

"Yeah," Ginny breathed. "If you'd like."

Luna got to her feet, brushing off her Muggle jeans and lime green shirt. "I'd like that," she said eagerly.

A grin bloomed across Ginny's freckled face. She stretched out her hands and Luna took them. A warmth Ginny had never experienced before spread through her chest.

Their steps were messy and random, but nevertheless beautiful. They were illuminated by moonlight, and the evening dew collected between their toes as they took each step. Ginny boldly kept her eyes on Luna's face throughout the dance, and she was elated to see that Luna seemed to be enjoying it just as much as she was.

Maybe there was a chance that Luna wanted something more, too.

After an indiscernible amount of time—it could have been two minutes or twenty—Ginny and Luna came to a natural stop. Ginny was slightly breathless, but it wasn't because of the exertion. She bit her lip, took a second to gather up her courage, then whispered, "Luna?"

The Ravenclaw was wide-eyed. "Yes?"

"I…" Ginny swallowed. "I was wondering if you'd like to be more than friends."

Luna's mouth dropped open in an _o_ shape. " _More than_ friends?" she asked, her voice soft.

Ginny ducked her head. "Well, yeah. Like, you know. Like girlfriends."

Pale hands squeezed Ginny's. "I'd love to be more than friends!" She sounded awed, excited, even, and Ginny felt relief wash over her like a wave.

"You would?"

Luna embraced her tightly, her nose pressed to the side of Ginny's neck. "Yes!" She lowered her voice just a little when she continued. "I was hoping you'd ask me."

Ginny laughed and pressed her cheek to the top of Luna's head. "Well, no more worrying about that. Merlin, Ron's going to be insufferable about this. He's overprotective, you know."

"I know." Luna pulled back, still beaming. "But he won't worry so much if we're dating. He knows me already."

Ginny laughed, feeling on top of the world. "I suppose you're right." Then she laced her fingers through Luna's. "Come on, we'd best go inside—you dad'll worry if we're not home soon, and my mum'll be back to get me in the morning."

Luna nodded and gripped Ginny's hand a little tighter, as though fearful that their night would turn out to be a dream. Ginny used her free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Luna's ear, doing her best to ease those insecurities. She wasn't planning on going anywhere.

Hand in hand, the two girls walked through the field towards the Lovegood residence, their hearts soaring.


End file.
